Inside and outside the grand hall dedicated to the True Martial Emperor, the incense burned thick and fervent.
An elderly Daoist with a solemn expression strode swiftly across the threshold. Spotting a tall figure clad in white standing with their back turned, the old man steadied himself, slowed his pace, and came to stand beside them.
The figure in white, towering even taller than most men of Northern Liang, turned out to be a young woman. Her face shimmered faintly with an ethereal glow, as if embodying the sacred dignity of a Bodhisattva descended to the mortal realm.
The elderly Daoist had come to take over the duty of striking the chime. Though he held the highest seniority on Wudang Mountain and had overseen its discipline for decades as a Grand Realized One, he still attended to every task personally. As he approached the hall, he sensed her unusual aura—though in truth, it was she who had noticed him first and deliberately revealed traces of her presence.
Following her gaze, the old Daoist saw a devout worshipper performing the ritual of three kneelings and nine prostrations on a prayer mat. Despite his frail, elderly frame, the man carried out the rites with meticulous devotion.
This was a sight the old Daoist knew all too well. Brought to the mountain as a youth by his master, Huang Manshan, he had trained alongside fellow disciples like Wang Chonglou and Song Zhiming. Now nearing a century in age, he had witnessed nearly eighty years of pilgrims burning incense in prayer.
With a sigh, the old man mused, “Men seek the immortals with white hair—for longevity, for solace, for freedom from suffering.”
The tall woman in white replied indifferently, “Then why does Wudang Mountain seek to sever the aspirations of all cultivators?”
The old man was none other than Chen Yao, the Disciplinary Elder of Wudang, senior brother to the former sect master Hong Xixiang and uncle to the current master, Li Yufu. He chuckled lightly. “Sect Master Tantai, this old Daoist only knows the rules of this mountain—what should and should not be done. But if you ask me about the art of immortality, or greater matters, you might as well be asking a blind man for directions. Had you come earlier, my master, my senior brother, or my junior brother could have answered. Even just a dozen days sooner, the sect master himself might have had an answer.”
Tantai Pingjing withdrew her gaze and looked up at the imposing statue of the True Martial Emperor, lofty and aloof, gazing down upon the mortal world. “Is it truly so hard to understand? Or do you refuse to understand? Why did the Spring and Autumn Era collapse? Why did the Central Plains sink into chaos? Because a handful of powerful clans blocked the path of ascension for the entire world. It’s plain to see—if the current Liyang emperor were to reject the common-born scholars and fill his court solely with scions of noble houses, the Zhao dynasty’s fate would be just as short-lived. ‘Flowing water does not stagnate; a door’s pivot does not rot.’ The principle is simple.”
The old Daoist smiled and nodded. “Sect Master Tantai speaks wisely.”
Tantai Pingjing pressed further, “Does Wudang Mountain’s ambition extend so far as to turn the entire mortal realm into a fragmented domain of warlords?”
The old Daoist countered, “In Sect Master Tantai’s eyes, are mortals truly inferior to the immortals of heaven?”
Tantai Pingjing pointed irreverently at the statue. “Are they not? Then why does this effigy sit so high, gazing down, while men willingly bow and offer incense for a thousand years?”
Unperturbed by the disrespect from the former leader of the southern Qi Practitioners, the old Daoist shook his head. “As I said before, men seek the immortals because they desire something. Allow this old Daoist to make an unrefined analogy—it’s like the world of officials or the marketplace. When one seeks a favor, they bring gifts; when one speaks, they lower their voice. Such is the way of things, but it does not mean the one being petitioned may act with impunity.”
The usually taciturn old Daoist found himself speaking at length, his tone growing weightier. “I hear the immortals of heaven are adept at fishing for the fortunes of mortals—lifespans, the fate of nations, all within their grasp. If it were merely the indifference of heaven, where the wicked are not cut short nor the virtuous granted longevity, it would be of little consequence. But to think that even one’s marriage, lifespan, and blessings are all controlled by another—how tragic is that? My master once told us six disciples: ‘As heaven moves with vigor, the nobleman strives unceasingly.’ Better to strive against adversity than to rest on innate fortune, better to reject rigid predestination. Though we Daoists dwell beyond the mundane on this mountain, we must never forget we are still of this world—born here, and here we shall die.”
From Lü Dongbin to Huang Manshan, to Chen Yao’s generation—Wang Chonglou, Song Zhiming, Yu Xingrui, Wang Xiaoping, Hong Xixiang—none sought immortality.
Some could not and did not wish to, like Song Zhiming and Chen Yao.
Some could but refused, like Wang Chonglou and Yu Xingrui.
Some disdained it outright, like Hong Xixiang and Wang Xiaoping.
Chen Yao suddenly burst into laughter, turning to face the woman said to have ascended to the celestial realm as an Earthly Immortal. Unafraid, he declared, “In a hundred years of mortal history, how many have ascended? Among those few, who among them was not once a banished immortal? Tell me, Sect Master Tantai, whose envoy are you? This old Daoist knows one thing—the one who moves you to act is certainly not this True Martial Emperor.”
Tantai Pingjing frowned.
A strange smile curled her lips. “Then have you ever considered whether the Northern Liang Prince Xu Fengnian and your sect master Li Yufu are banished immortals? And why, of all times, must they defy heaven in this lifetime?”
Chen Yao wore an expression of utter nonchalance, chuckling. “This old Daoist is merely the disciplinary elder of Wudang. Why should I concern myself with such matters?”
Tantai Pingjing’s face turned icy. “What a Wudang Mountain! Truly worthy of Lü Zu’s legacy!”
Chen Yao remained smiling. “You flatter us.”
Tantai Pingjing turned away, her eyes gleaming white.
Yu Xingrui stood beyond the hall’s threshold.
But her gaze pierced straight through to the Lesser Lotus Peak beyond the Great Lotus Peak.
In the next moment, her form dissipated.
Yu Xingrui, who had rushed over in haste, exhaled in relief. Chen Yao walked slowly toward his junior brother, the famously stern elder now teasing, “Junior Brother Yu, wipe your sweat.”
Yu Xingrui asked worriedly, “You just let her leave like that?”
Chen Yao replied philosophically, “Her appearance at this time means she harbors no immediate intent to kill. Think about it—with the prince on the mountain, Deng Tai’a, Li Dangxin, and so many grandmasters present, who would dare cause trouble here? She’s no Wang Xianzhi of Emperor City, after all.”
Yu Xingrui nodded. “True.”
Chen Yao suddenly asked, “Have you truly made up your mind?”
Yu Xingrui answered gravely, “Unlike the rest of you, I, Yu Xingrui, am a son of Liangzhou through and through.”
Chen Yao broke decorum to pat Yu Xingrui’s shoulder. “Then go with peace. With Yufu, Han Gui, and… that little Yu Fu, all is well.”
Yu Xingrui sighed regretfully. “Only, I may not live to see the day our junior brother awakens.”
Chen Yao nodded. “Neither will this senior brother.”
“Senior Brother, may I speak plainly?”
“Go ahead.”
“That junior brother of ours is still just a child, at an age where he should be sleeping in. Must you really knock on his door before dawn every day?”
“Junior Brother, who is the disciplinary elder of this mountain—you or me?”
“…”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Sometimes our junior brother sneaks treats while interpreting divinations—candied hawthorns and such. Could you not be so eagle-eyed every time? He’s just a boy, yet you’ve made him stay up copying scriptures by lamplight so often it pains me. Yufu waits outside his door every time, heartbroken.”
“Ah. This senior brother nearly forgot—our junior brother is now nominally your disciple’s disciple. The three of you share quite the bond.”
“Senior Brother, is that a hint of jealousy I detect? Haha, what can I say? I chose my disciple well.”
“Junior Brother, weren’t you supposed to be on duty in the scripture tower today? What leisure do you have to chat here? Copy the *Daoist Doctrinal Compendium* tonight.”
“Senior Brother! And weren’t *you* supposed to be striking the chime by now?”
“Haha, what can I say? This senior brother oversees Wudang’s discipline.”
“…”
***
At the divination stall, Su Su and his companions had already left, though Wei Miao lingered in the distance. The alluring Miao woman, now long married, perched eagerly on the bench before the table, watching as the young prince began packing up. In her heavily accented court dialect, she teased, “Handsome lad, won’t you divine a stick for this elder sister too?”
Xu Fengnian suppressed a laugh. “Elder Sister, you’ve been married for years. What need have you for a love divination?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “No choice, really. My man fears nothing in this world—except me leaving him. I just want to see if I married well back then.”
Wei Miao, unremarkable in appearance and short in stature, grinned broadly. For a man—and one of the martial world’s rare grandmasters—his temper was astonishingly mild.
Xu Fengnian looked at the couple and declared firmly, “No need to check. It’s bound to be a good omen!”
The Miao woman hesitated but ultimately relented.
As Wei Miao left, he cast a deep glance back at Xu Fengnian.
Xu Fengnian had no intention of hauling away the table and benches, nor the divination sticks—though not a single copper coin from the small mountain of them would be left behind!
This was his hard-earned redemption money.
Just then, Xu Fengnian froze.
A young woman in plain wooden hairpin and coarse cloth approached. Though her attire was humble and she bore no martial prowess, the regal air about her was unmistakable.
Over her arm hung a cloth bag filled with freshly picked golden persimmons.
Xu Fengnian felt a headache coming on.
Her presence on Wudang Mountain, coinciding with Gu Jian Tang’s recent arrival, was ill-timed for both.
One was a princess long declared dead in the annals of the Liyang court. The other was the Great Pillar of the State, unwaveringly loyal to the Zhao dynasty.
Princess Sui Zhu, Zhao Fengya, gracefully seated herself on the bench opposite him, as if the stall were still open.
Xu Fengnian sat back down, sighing. “What brings you here?”
She smiled faintly. “To see if I can draw the topmost stick.”
As Xu Fengnian opened his mouth to reply, she continued, “Where is it hidden? Bring it out, or how else can I draw it?”
Without a hint of shame, Xu Fengnian shook his sleeve, letting a bamboo stick clatter onto the table.
She smirked. “What a businessman. Even if you lose your title as Prince of Northern Liang, you could flee to the Central Plains and still amass a fortune.”
Xu Fengnian chuckled dryly. “Should I call that a jinx or a blessing?”
Her expression turned cold. “The stick tube!”
Her imperious tone had lost none of its edge from years past.
Xu Fengnian, ever the pragmatist, held out a hand. “Do you have a hundred coppers?”
She plucked a ripe persimmon from her bag and placed it on the table.
Xu Fengnian’s eyes widened.
Not at the former princess’s audacity—but at the appearance of another princess behind her.
This one, however, was the former princess of Great Chu.
Zhao Fengya glanced over her shoulder. “Oh? The flying swordswoman who loves to flaunt her prowess has arrived.”
Jiang Ni scowled. “None of your business!”
For some reason, despite having once been the Chu emperor and now a sword immortal, Jiang Ni still felt at a disadvantage facing Zhao Fengya, the fallen phoenix who had once destroyed her vegetable garden.
In a fight, the mounted archer Princess Sui Zhu had narrowly bested her in their first encounter. Now, Jiang Ni could likely defeat a thousand Zhao Fengyas—yet the thought of fighting her never crossed her mind.
In verbal sparring, Jiang Ni had never stood a chance—past, present, or future.
Zhao Fengya declared imperiously, “First come, first served. I draw first!”
Jiang Ni pursed her lips, unable to muster a retort.
Xu Fengnian sighed and set down the bamboo tube.
Zhao Fengya looked up. “No tricks while I’m drawing!”
Xu Fengnian rolled his eyes and waved for her to proceed.
Zhao Fengya picked up the tube, gave it a few casual shakes, and let a stick clatter out. She picked it up, glanced at it, then smirked, casting a pointed look at Jiang Ni—who was visibly more nervous—before slapping the stick down.
She rose and left, ungraciously taking the persimmon with her.
Only after Zhao Fengya had turned away did Jiang Ni stealthily pick up the stick.
Her breathtaking face cycled through shock, grievance, resentment, and sorrow—until tears welled in her eyes.
Baffled, Xu Fengnian leaned over to look.
Suddenly, he understood Su Su’s earlier despair.
What goes around comes around!
The stick in Jiang Ni’s hand, the one Zhao Fengya had drawn so casually, read:
*”A match made in heaven? A union of immortals. What more could one ask?”*
The topmost stick!
Xu Fengnian pressed a hand to his forehead, speechless.
All those painstakingly earned coppers—utterly wasted.
He braced himself, wary that the pitiful little mud figure before him might “casually” lift a hand—summoning the Great Liang Dragon Sparrow from the purple sandalwood sword case by the cottage.
Xu Fengnian couldn’t help but sigh, a pang of bitterness in his heart.
Jiang Ni flung the stick back into the tube as if burned, wiped her face, then turned away—avoiding both Xu Fengnian and the tube—to stare at the mountain of coppers. Softly, she asked, “Did you earn all this today?”
In the throes of existential despair, Xu Fengnian nodded.
Her voice suddenly brightened. “How much is it?”
Xu Fengnian replied gently, “Quite a bit. Converted to silver, nearly a hundred taels.”
Her eyes sparkled, her previously gloomy face now radiant.
She looked up tentatively. “All mine?”
Suppressing a smile, Xu Fengnian said, “Of course.”
He stood, seizing the moment to hand her a large cloth bag he’d prepared earlier. “Hold it open. It’ll be heavy.”
She nodded eagerly, scurrying around the table to stand beside him. Bending over, she stretched the bag open with both hands, her expression one of intense focus—and sheer anticipation for the coins to tumble in.
Xu Fengnian swept an arm across the table, funneling the coins into the bag.
Coins clinked against coins, on the table and in the bag, a chorus of metallic jingles.
At first, her smile was restrained, but soon she beamed openly.
As he worked, he stole glances at her profile, at that dimple.
The joy of seeing one’s beloved happy—the greatest happiness in the world.
Eyes fixed on the coins, she marveled, “It’s really heavy!”
Xu Fengnian replied, “I’ll carry it back for you.”
She nodded vigorously. “Mm!”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage